PS 3537 
.P82 S6 
1913 
Copy 1 




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Class 

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rmiiyiightN" / ^ l3 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



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SONGS OF 
SEVEN YEARS 



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BY 
SYDNEY ROWE 



cxxv^., ...^ .X 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

191S 






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Copyright, 1913 
Sherman, French & Company 



'CJ.A854243 



AN INTRODUCTION 

The heart has thoughts too sacred for the tongu( 

Or, if at all the profane oracle 

Have leave to babble them, they must be said 

In riddles, as the secrets of old fanes 

Once unto men thus darkly were disclosed 

In the flawed mirror of such speech as mine. 

The curious foot, irreverent, presses now 

Among the fallen sacred columns old 

Of those mute temples; now within my breast 

The alien presences may take their way 

But hear no fateful voice or, if at all 

They hear, oft guess not what the sound implies. 

The sad, deep whispers of mysterious lips 
Are borne upon me — if ye hear^ attend! 



i 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Storm 1 

My Tryst 3 

"Take Thou my Song" 4 

An Apology for Sorrow 5 

Wanderer's Song 6 

The Walk 7 

"Strong Heart That Fear'st to Die" . . 9 
"When in Dim Ways That Hearken to Our 

Tread" 10 

The Poets' Poet 11 

The Builders 12 

Loneliness 13 

In Absence 14 

The Queen 15 

Marjorie 16 

The Ramble 17 

The Approach of Spring 19 

Reminiscence 20 

Tranquillity 21 

"The Sunshine Doth not Blaze upon the 

Earth" 22 

Remembrance 23 

The Sea-Maiden 24 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Youth's Reply 25 

At the Window 26 

The Spell Retained 28 

On the Terrace 29 

Inspiration 31 

On Some Stray Verses 32 

Fragment of a Narrative Poem .... 33 

Supposed Thoughts in a Sickroom ... 35 

Motherhood 37 

The Island 38 

To Anne 39 

Our Maple 40 

On a Picture 42 

Tristram 43 

A Summer Stroll 45 

To 47 

Flower Song 48 

Lover's Song 49 

Rondeau 50 

To the Moon 51 

The Evening Hour 53 

To Tranquillity 54 

The Chieftain 56 

The Day of Rejoicing 59 

Evensong 60 



SONGS OF SEVEN YEARS 



STORM 

Storm breaks upon the mountains. Heaven 
and earth 

Answer each other's thunders, from the base 

Of wave-dashed cliffs even to the utter height 

Of visible heaven. Black-winged clouds dis- 
close 

Keen lightnings quivering in their breasts a 
moment ; 

Then all the shapes of Nature seem to share 

In the oblivion of death. 

The floods 
Of heaven are opened on the earth. Anew 
The mighty pall of darkness is rolled back. 
The lifted wave, the steep-walled mountain- 
range, 
The gray clouds shrinking from the middle 

glare, 
Are fixed in intense outline on the brain 
Long after sight has lost them. Suddenly 
Overhead the thunder's mighty cymbals clash 
With peal on peal of sound. 



In answer rings ! 



A wild bird's cry 



[1] 



O vast Confederacy 
Of air and fire, the once-upheaved earth 
And the still heaving ocean, chained calms 
And wind-lashed tempests with their myriad 

tongues, — 
Yea, and the silent stars, beyond their call, 
That keep the changeless courses of wide 

heaven, — 
The greatest wonder of the Universe 
Is Life, defying thee to reign alone ! 



[2] 



MY TRYST 

Nightly I keep my tryst with one fast holden 

A captive far away; 
When the deep west from green and red and 
golden 

Has faded mto gray 

I feel a sweet insistence in my being 
That draws me from the earth, 

Until, as dewdrops mingle in their fleeing 
From places of their birth, 

My calmer thoughts and those that fain would 
ever 

In distant channels stray 
Are drawn together in one happy river 

That runneth on alway 

Till — the great depth of calm our spirits hold- 
ing 
In a sweet rest supreme. 
The shadowy cloak of slumber round us fold- 
ing— 
I kiss the lips of Dream ! 



[3] 



'TAKE THOU MY SONG" 

my song 
My song shall live with thee; 

Then in thy grave 
My song shall buried be. 

'Tis fame enough 
That thou art kind to me! 

Rich, rich my song 
To live — to die — with thee! 



[4] 



AN APOLOGY FOR SORROW 

As the showers to wakening Earth 

In the April days, 
So our sorrow is to mirth 

Along life's ways. 

Chide us not, that we should weep 
When we might be gay; 

Mirth itself must sometimes sleep, 
Or waste itself away. 



[5] 



WANDERER'S SONG 

My heart has taken pilgrimage 
O'er many miles and many years ; 

But for my birthright's heritage 

My heart at last goes back with tears. 

O golden valleys ! golden hills ! 

So early loved, and lost so long! 
Again my sight with splendor fills; 

Again ye touch my lips to song! 



[6] 



THE WALK 

A WIND went swimming through the grain. 

Our feet were happy to be free. 
We laughed and talked and laughed again. 

The wind blew raindrops from the tree. 

We went into the wood-shadows. 

The wind did not care very much 
For dead old brush and stones and those. 

We left ; we were quite glad of such. 

The bold wind met us, like a man. 

One walked each side the tiny path. 
Below the brown, soft turf it ran. 

The wind a grey, last year's leaf hath. 

We wandered as the water does. 

The wind sang like a little flame. 
The wind said all our words for us 

Till by the shadowy brook we came. 

The wind went laughing from the brook. 

We followed after, by and by. 
I know not what way our feet took. 

The wind and we told earth goodby. 



[7] 



We came unto the lake, I think. 

It was all strung for the wind's lyre — 
I saw the strings and fingers wink. 

Our hearts were our own harp and choir. 

The wind had led us home again — 

We parted where the leaves were thinned. 

The sun saw us make promise when 
We'd next go walking with the wind. 



[8] 



"STRONG HEART THAT FEAR'ST TO 
DIE" 

Steong heart, that fear'st to die, 
Pass not this blossom by, 
Pure as the morning sky, 

Frail as a tear. 
This flower knoweth death, 
Rendereth up its breath, 
Fadeth, and vanisheth. 

And hath no fear. 



[9] 



"WHEN IN DIM WAYS THAT 
HEARKEN TO OUR TREAD" 

When, in dim ways that hearken to our tread, 

Fearful, we see we know not what thing take 

Shape from our fears, if we can then awake 
Our senses from the drugged drowse of dread. 
And, with eyes forward strained and fixed head. 

Make loath acquaintance with the phantom 
drear. 

Relief comes sudden as a hard-shed tear 
On seeing that from which we w^ould have fled. 
Yea, spirits oft, more deep in tenderness 

Than sighing wind as one to sleep departs, 
Take, in life's doubtful night, funereal dress 

And eyes that watch unseen and chilling 
breath 
Of horror; yet if we bravely play our parts 

We find them harmless — even the one called 
Death ! 



[10] 



THE POETS' POET 

Soothed with thj songs, I almost take af- 
fright 
Whene'er a dazzled critic, vexed, half raves 
At these — the toyings of thy spirit light — 
Thy whirlwind coursers, thy enchanted 
caves. 
Alas, he and his kin ne'er fully yet 

Found out all splendid mysteries of the 
night : 
Though earth's proud heirs search all that 
steep is set, 
Some orbs there be that are beyond their 
sight. 
Well may these hail on high the rosy sign 

Of one who held his thistle to their hearts! 
That for their comfort: but a loftier line 
Looked up, and were made glad through all 

their marts, 
When thy clear spirit clove its shadowy bars 
Within the heaven of heavens, a star unto the 
stars ! 



[11] 



THE BUILDERS 

FouR'SauARE they la}^, the unfinished pyra- 
mids ; 

And round them swarmed the innumerable 
mites of toil, 

Only less countless than the sands that spread 

Leagues west, leagues south, leagues east, 
leagues north from them. 

How did they build? — in blind despair alway 
Of seeing a final block heaved past the 

scourge? — 
Or shown that what they wrought should dawn 

on earth 
An answering sign for heaven's securest star? 

Haply some poet, reeking 'mong that throng, 
Took station on the visionary top 
Ere yet the substance rose, and, gazing thence, 
Saw age on age sink into dust before him. 



[12] 



LONELINESS 

Not highest splendor of night — 
Nor lowest glimmer of dawn — 

Nor twilight's elfin delight — 

Refresheth me, now thou art gone, 

Because I watched them with thee — 

Because thy seeing led mine 
To see things hidden in the tree, 

In the hill, in the star's eyes, and thine! 



[18] 



IN ABSENCE 

Ere I went sailing from thy sight 

I sware in whisper low 
My heart should ope to no delight 

Save that I loved thee so. 

A wind made all the ocean rough 
For miles and miles along; 

I could not drink me joy enough 
Of such a shout and song! 

The wind went off, and all the stars 
Came forth about the sea; 

My heart flew to thy window bars 
And dwelt all night with thee! 



[14] 



THE QUEEN 

When in her youth she sat from state, 
Great respite grew of jesters great, 
Who revelry before her made 
And loudly sang and loudly played. 
"Play on ! Play on !" she oft would say ; 
"My heart grows merrier day by day 
For joys of souls in voices dight, 
And laughter of the lute's delight !" 

But when long years had faded her 

Like strown gray leaf, that scarce will stir, 

Where in the palace-court she lay, 

With languid hands and looks away, 

She said, "Draw near, ye choristers. 

And harpers on slow dulcimers. 

That with your solemn, saddening sound 

My life may run her final round." 



[15] 



MARJORIE 

In the bower that was her choice, 
Luting to her tender voice, 

Sat my Marjorie. 
Passers all, that her did spy, 
'Gan a-twinkling of the eye 

At my Marjorie. 
She had heed for string and ditty; 
For their hearts she had no pity, 

Marjorie, my Marjorie! 

But when I came sadly by. 
Slow of foot and mild of eye, 

By my Marjorie, 
Then she snapped refrain and string, 
Then the sweet came hastening — 

Why, my Marjorie? 
'Cause she'd have no fool to love her. 
And chose me, that seemed above her?-- 

Mar j orie ! — my Mar j orie ! 



[16] 



THE RAMBLE 

When the glad morning beckoned at the door, 
We went out toward the hilltops to explore. 
Strong winds all night had held the dew away, 
So that the drifting grass was dry as hay, 
Swaying each side the smooth path pleasantly ; 
And so no mist-drops trickled from the tree ; 
And we walked without question anywhere. 

Great upland fields, by sheep cropped almost 

bare. 
We entered; the stiff mulleins stood around; 
But very barren was the rocky ground. 

We looked away and saw the leaf-hid town — 

A million green leaves over roofs of brown! 

One sharp, white spire stood highest, tipped 
with gold; 

And village streams made glimmerings mani- 
fold. 

Then the slow upward slope our steps beguiled ; 
Halfway we found a small brook running wild ; 
While, somewhat further, two great rocks to- 
gether, 
Which shone like ebon in the sunny weather. 
Rose from the turf. We saw about their bases 
Cool-shadowed ferns outlined in feathery 
traces. 

[17] 



But we passed on until with hastening feet 
We neared and running gained the summit. 

Sweet 
It is to stand where scarce is room beside 
For anyone to come and share your pride ; 
So there we stood, all in the mighty air! 

Beyond the gulfs of hollow valleys fair 
The hills in faint blue distance were withdrawn ; 
And over them the far-off skies went on ; 
And all took splendor from the lofty sun ! 

And so we praised the prospect, one by one ; 
And, having looked awhile, we turned toward 

home. 
Morning had seen us go — noon saw us come ! 



[18] 



THE APPROACH OF SPRING 

Ere yet is grown the lily of the valley 

That in broad leaves hides up its crystal 
bells, 
While yet on chestnut lawn and woodland alley 

Only the shade of the bare branches dwells, 
Even now the sun is gently, gently creeping 

Out of the hard old bonds of ice-cold cloud; 
Even now the rivers are but lightly sleeping 

Under their shining robes ; and every crowd 
Of sparrows making harsh the chill, shrill 
breezes 

Makes us remember birds of velvet voice; 
And all the world that fades and binds and 
freezes 

Will hold, ere long, gifts of a happier choice. 
So, sit we waiting, and, all suddenly, 
A robin circles down from yonder tree! 



[19] 



REMINISCENCE 

In the free days of childhood I have perched, 

Light as a bird, on such a swinging bough 

As o'er me mocks my decorous limbs but 

now — 

O the wild wind-rush through the leaves ! — how 

lurched 
The restive branch whereon I sat, besmirched 
Perhaps with pine gum or the sticky flow 
From the horse-chestnut buds ! Now I must 
go 
In sober cleanliness, and leave unsearched 
The airy chambers of the wild tree-top. 

Ah, well ! perhaps even now I've gone too 

far — 
Let some loose thoughts outrun my dignity. 
Man lives to watch his business — tend his 
crop — 
Not to career in winged Fancy's car. 
And yet, it was so happy to be free ! 



[20] 



TRANQUILLITY 

O Loveliness of the unbroken day — 
When, with no sorrows frowning on its way, 
No dreary heart-throbs urging it to end. 
It moves with man as an inviolate friend! 

And after sunset, may th' attempered night 
Yield us no anguish with its softened light. 
But ever watch above our slumber mild — 
Like a tired mother over a tired child. 



[21] 



"THE SUNSHINE DOTH NOT BLAZE 
UPON THE EARTH" 

The sunshine doth not blaze upon the earth 
This afternoon, but lieth as a veil 
Over the woodlands, marvelous and pale. 
The faded meadows, waiting spring's green 
birth. 
Oppose their dreary flats to that wan mirth. 
The pools yet glimmer in chill coats of mail ; 
And sharp, dark forms of far-flown swallows 
sail 
Athwart the clouds that crowd the world's gray 

girth. 
And yet, in gazing on this scene I feel 
A melancholy languor, that is sweet 

As music heard from far; and yet I know 
That art awaits me, and the toil for weal. 
Whereof my sense is loath, filled with such 

glow 
As for one wasted hour makes recompense 
complete. 



[22] 



REMEMBRANCE 

We may forget old Friendship ; 

We may forget old Love ; 
We may forget old Longing 

For blessed souls above ; 
But we shall yet remember 

And v/e shall yet be true 
Long as in gray December 

There comes a gleam of blue! 

The clouds may darken round us, 

The winds roar in our ears, 
Our hands wear out their cunning, 

Our eyes shed all their tears ; 
But time is never weary 

And hath all things in hold; 
And though the path be dreary 

It brings us to the fold! 

Return, O Love and Friendship 

And Longing for the Lost ! 
Speak tenderly and sadly 

Unto us, tempest-tossed ; 
And guide us into harbors 

Like pilots wise and strong; 
For safe in fair green arbors 

All sea-blown souls belong! 



[23] 



THE SEA-MAIDEN 

I HEARD a footstep on the sea 

As I sat waiting drearily 

For the ship to come and take me home, 

And bring me home to thee. 

I heard — I saw; I heard a step — 
I saw a maiden on the sea! 
Her eyes and hair made her more fair 
Than any one but thee ! 

She beckoned me ! She called to me ! 

Monotonously as the sea 

Her voice came to me — and slipped through 

me, 
Thinking but of thee. 

Another sat beside me there. 

He saw her eyes ; he saw her hair ; 

She becked and called him ; she enthralled him ; 

He went to her lair ! 

She willed him to her with her eyes ; 

Then with her hair, in wildest wise, 

She wound him, prisoned — strangled — bound 

him. 
Dragged him down, never to rise! 



[24] 



YOUTH'S REPLY 

I HEAR the sullen minstrel sing 
How all delight is on the wing, 
And nothing here with us may stay 
Save leaden-weighted sorrows gray. 

O minstrel, thou wilt sure remain. 
And thine own words shall be thy chain; 
But if my joys take flight with laughter 
I'll make words wings and follow after! 



[25] 



AT THE WINDOW 

The dusk grew close and dense against the 
pane. 
She, cheek in hand, leant staring, tense and 
still. 
The firefly's spark flashed out, and flashed 

again. 
Across the hard, gray path she watched in vain 
For one who loved her, though the love was 
ill. 

She sat, and did not move or speak or sigh. 

Sometimes her husband's parting kiss be- 
came 
A brand still laid across her lips ; but high 
And patient was her glance, that seemed to try 

If it might pierce the shadow like a flame. 

Quick steps across the lawn were like a dart 
To shock her heart from life ; then, swift and 
sweet, 
A flock of kisses, as with secret art, 
Drew all the warm, sweet savor of her heart 
Through her sweet-thrilling lips with thrills 
as sweet. 



[26] 



And then with all its tresses and its flowers 
She put her warm, brown head into his 
breast, 
And cried, "Oh, save me from these barren 

hours ! 
Take me aw^ay where love may all be ours ! 
Save me from him I cannot love the best !" 

And wept, and sobbed, "Oh, from my husband 
save ! 

For you alone I live ; for you I die 
If death must be ; but oh, before the wave 
Turns seaward, slay and lay me in my grave. 

Or take me in your arms to hold for aye !" 

Then suddenly she saw her husband's face — 
White as a stern, white cliff, and stern, and 
still ; 
And suddenly he burst from her embrace 
And rushed into the darkness ; while the place 
Rang with a cry, "My heaven is turned to 
hell!" 



[27] 



THE SPELL RETAINED 

I SAW thee once of old, 
Where the deep, green meadows rolled, 
And the hills stood round about, 
And the sun shone overhead; 
We walked and talked awhile; 
And thy language held no guile. 
Yet a charm was on my thought, 
And a power my footsteps led! 

I met with thee but now. 

And we did but glance and bow. 

And there was no time for talking. 
And our ways w ere separate ways ; 
But still I felt upon me 
The same soft spell that won me 
When first we two went walking 
In the old rural days ! 



[28] 



ON THE TERRACE 

We on the westward-rounding terrace sat 
Together; all the rest had entered in. 
The sun shot radiance from beyond the hills. 
A sole, sweet star hung halfway to the south. 
The low clouds lay like smoke along the wood. 

There in the dusk I felt thy presence grow 

Into a temple of all purity, 

In which I sat a breathing worshiper, 

While all things round insensate seemed o'er- 

spread 
With that which made them sacred unto thee 
And to the twilight, thy preferred hour, 
O goddess gentler than the quiet eve. 
To whom I offer incense of dim song 
And sacrifice of everlasting love. 

Sitting by thee, I look on the sweet world 
Which seems a shadow of thy loveliness. 
The darkness imperceptibly as sleep 
Settles upon the land more closely ; now 
Star after star is gradually discerned 
About the calm, dim dome ; on earth, more near, 
The fireflies come and go, inconstant stars; 
And the clear waters glimmer to the skies. 



[29] 



Voice there is not, save of the marshy throng 
That from the distance are distinctly heard, 
And now and then a faint, sweet note that floats 
Out of the dark, mysterious trees, and thrills 
The soul as if the utterance were its own. 

Thou stirrest but a finger, and my sense, 
Long in forgetful contemplation lost. 
Returns to thee: — as when some deeper strain 
Of that same music which taught loveliest 

thoughts 
To the dim brain at length breaks in upon them, 
Shattering all sense but of the melody. 

Thou and the peaceful night fulfill for me 

All longings nurtured in my fiercer hours. 

I am content with all things as they are. 

Hope, labor, sorrow, cease ; for thou art all 

I hoped for, all I labored to deserve. 

All that has been a balm for sorrow ; thou 

Art the whole aim and remedy of life. 

And life's one sweeter gift than death, to me ! 

Thou speakest, and my selfish thoughts are 

shed; 
And all my happy calm becomes desire 
To serve and gladden thee. What wilt thou 

have ? 
Rise up — the night is chill: let us go in. 

[30] 



INSPIRATION 

Dead calm is on the waters. Leisurely 

The slow wave rises and the slow wave falls. 
No voice to the still fleet awakening calls ; 
Dull as the creek that drains the sand-hills 

dry 
Is all the sea, and duller all the sky, 

Thick clogged with stagnant clouds. The 

shrouds and falls 
On all the craft slack inward. Slowly palls 
The water, with a darker shade on high. 
Suddenly all is changed; a breeze comes on; 
Great sails are moved; smooth-sided hulls 

glide through 
The swelling waters ; life is on the sea ! 
So to my heart, whose laughter long was gone 
Into the burial shade life's clouds bestrew. 
There comes a moment of bright energy. 



[31] 



ON SOME STRAY VERSES 

Walking beside the sea, I wrought a song — 
Or it mayhap was fashioned in the wood 
That shapes its edges to the winding coast, 
Or even inland, in some undefined 
Spot amid villages and streeted towns ; 
I cannot recollect the place, — but through 
My song there breathed the salt air's shudder- 
ing breath. 
Dank with the floating foam ; one seemed to 

hear 
A low sea-undertone of washing waves 
Amid the cadence of the verses wild ; 
And one who found them on an Autumn day 
Read them among the j^ellowed woodlands then ; 
And he forgot the crisp, sweet Autumn breath ; 
And he forgot the frost upon the grass ; 
And he forgot the falling leaves ; he saw 
Only the rolling waves, and heard alone 
The thunder of them ; and his heart was glad. 



[ 32 ] 



FRAGMENT OF A NARRATIVE POEM 

My tale is of the fortunes of a knight 
Who fought with old King Arthur and his men 
In the rude days miscalled of chivalry, 
When Britain was well-nigh a wilderness. 
He is not named in legends that have crept 
Through the dim maze of years down to our 

time; 
For in a mighty battle, that was fought 
Early in Arthur's luster-gathering reign. 
He fell nigh dead beneath an axe's blow. 
And for a long time in a doubtful place 
Remained as one whose ears and lips and eyes 
Are as they were not to him having them ; 
And afterward he was removed away — 
Not yet recovered of his fearful wound — 
Into the midst of comrades who had camped 
In a green forest near where he had been; 
And here he slowly grew like one alive. 
But they that brought him being folk not 

known 
Of them to whom they brought him in his pain. 
He could not learn what place it was where he 
Had lain so long in stupor or dull dreams, 
(For a long time it was since last he drew 
His sword, or set his lance against the foe), 
And so he might not touch the friendly hands 
That there had ministered to his sad state. 
But only blessed them in his heart betime.«, 

[33] 



And prayed that succor they might find at need ; 

And, as he now was able to depart 

And go unto his king at Lyonesse, 

He thither set his face, in company 

With others of his comrades like of mind, 

Traveling with them on horses through the 

woods. 
Now, both while he had lain recovering 
From that dire wound by camp-fires of his 

friends, 
And while he journeyed now with health re- 
vived, 
There had grown up among his various 

thoughts 
Remembrances of things beheld or dreamed 
In that long darkness which his wound had 

kept 
About him in the place he knew not of. 
It seemed that he had sometime gazed dull- 
eyed 
On a low ceiling, ridged with stubborn beams. 
And dusky with the grime of backward years, — 
And that once, as he lay upgazing there, 
He had seen for a moment over him 
Bending so fair a face, he could not tell 
Where he had seen a fairer ; though his eyes 
Had looked on lovely Guinevere, the Queen, 
And many a fair-handmaiden of her train, 
And many a lady at the tournament. 
And many another woman here and there. 
[34] 



SUPPOSED THOUGHTS IN A SICKROOM 

I TIRE of being shut in painful gloom, 
Of sitting with myself within my room ; 
I tire of days with neither speech nor tune, 
Of rest that wearies, shelter not immune 
From plaguing thoughts and impotent desires. 
I would the stars were mine with all their fires ! 
I languish for the moon's light and the sun's! 
I would that I might sit where water runs ! 
I would that leaves might shadow me, and 

winds 
Breathe incense such as Araby's and Ind's 
Into my nostrils, and that birds might tease 
My languid ears with passionate melodies! 
For days are but as shadows unto me, 
And nights the same — I know not which times 

be; 
I care not which, unless I move with them. 

Somewhere away, along a forest's hem 
There runs a swirling brooklet, shallow and 

wide, 
And half in shade and half in sun, beside 
Full many a rock fringed round with tender 

ferns. 
And pigmy beeches, that the sunlight burns. 
And long, green, shadowy grasses stirred with 

wind. 

[35] 



There, in late summer, ere the leaves were 

thinned, 
I from beneath wide glooms of oak forth 

stepped 
Upon the pebbled marge. Cool breezes crept 
Amid the overhanging foliage where 
The sparkling waters played. Would I were 

there ! 



[36] 



MOTHERHOOD 

O BLESSEDNESS of thls — above all strife 
For glory, and all victory, and all pain, 

This one thing worthy in a whole vain life. 
To clasp — all things made possible again! 



[37] 



THE ISLAND 

A LAND in the midst of the sea! 

A water-girt region of green, 
Where the wings of the wind sweep free, 

And the shafts of the sun strike keen. 
A land that was chosen to be 

For a portion of man's demesne. 

On the verge of it, sand is and stone ; 

But inland are meadows and trees, 
And villages lying alone 

In the midst of them, while to the breeze 
Stand forth the low hills, that are strown 

As beacons far-seen from the seas. 

In my childhood, I ranged on the hills. 
And the meadows I made my delight ; 

I roamed in the w^oodland that fills 

The hollow, and looked from the height; 

I wandered by day with the rills. 
And slept in the village at night. 

And my heart still is tender with love 
For that fair foster-mother of mine. 

Whose nursling I was, who above 
All mothers save one was divine 

In the sight of my boyhood, whereof 
Still murmurs the wind in the pine. 

[38] 



TO ANNE 

Now, if one blossom smiles upon the air 
This morning, I will pluck it jou, and bear 
All of its dew and fragrance that I can 
Into the desert of your chamber, Anne ! 
I will not tell you of the wakened world. 
Lest you despair, on this dim couch upcurled — 
Not tell you of the tenuous poppies tall. 
How the rich buds break open, and let fall 
The scooped husks ; and I will not make known 
To you the vagrant wind's delicious tone 
Among the fresh, green leaves, that dance and 

sway 
As if to charm with gayety the day. 

If I were a magician, you should see 
The dewy world of morning, pace with me 
A little way across the webbed grass, 
Where bright-eyed robins startle as you pass, 
And sunlight glitters into pearl and gold; 
But, ah! these glories never will grow old, 
Though ancient as the sun that gave them 

birth ! 
So, do you still have patience ; and the earth 
Will seem more beautiful than e'er before 
To you, dear Anne, when you are strong once 

more. 



[39] 



OUR MAPLE 

A STURDY maple stands between 
The garden gay and lawn so green ; 
And there beneath its leafy screen, 

In heat of summer weather, 
We sit and watch the shadows play. 
Like troops of elves at holiday, 
Or gloomy thoughts, that shift and sway 

With brighter ones together. 

The great green leaves above us blow 

As the wind listeth, to and fro ; 

And sounds among them come and go. 

More soft than brooklet's murmur. 
The straight, clean trunk so smooth and round 
Is like a pillar time-imbrowncd ; 
It will not sway though gusts abound, 

But seems to stand the firmer. 

But all the branches overhead. 
One thinks, are delicately led 
To motion, and the air do tread 

So gracefully and slowly 
It almost puts one's thoughts to sleep 
To watch them so demurely keep 
Moving, as the slow airs do sweep 

About them, breathing lowly. 



[40] 



And so beneath our maple we 
Sit, while the days go drowsily 
Along their ways, and time's slow sea 

At high tide hangs uncertain ; 
And so, all the midsummer days, 
The maple hath our thanks and praise, 
As unto us it bends and plays, 

And shields us with its curtain. 



[41] 



ON A PICTURE 

She feels the freshness of the air 
That lifts her garments and her hair ; 
She hears the ripple of the stream 
Newly released from its long dream ; 
The ground is soft beneath her feet, 
And April's freedom wild and sweet! 

She strays along the waterside, 

And suddenly, in their golden pride, 

She sees full many a daffodil 

Upon the border of the rill ! 

She stoops and plucks one here and there. 

And wonders at a thing so fair. 

She need not wonder, for she is 
Herself more fair than daffodillies ! 
Her face is eager as the spring; 
Her lips are tender, as to sing; 
Her eyes serene as heaven's own blue, 
Yet lighted as with sunlight, too ! 

To me a memory she doth bring, 
As here I watch her wandering. 
Alas ! she makes me think of her 
For whom my heart doth liveliest stir — 
Doth liveliest stir, and lapse again ; 
For I have hope of only pain. 

[42] 



TRISTRAM 

A FRAGMENT 

Along the coast rode Tristram all alone; 
And the gray sea moaned round him in the 

tone 
The sea-wind carried in his ears ; but he 
Heard nothing of the moaning of the sea, 
Saw nothing of the vast, gray waters there 
That rolled beneath a vast, gray sky ; the bare 
Stretches of sand beneath his horse's feet 
He saw not, but saw ever, as the fleet 
Hawk sees before it a swift pigeon gone, 
That flees from it yet ever lures it on, — 
Saw ever, as a struggler in the sea. 
Close in the vessel's wake, sees pause and flee 
The vessel he would fain be with — a face 
Fair as the "sunshine in a cloudy place," 
A face leant eagerly toward his own. 
With calm, clear eyes, that yet, — as of the 

stone 
Men prize is said, — held an imprisoned fire, 
A fervent, curtained luster of desire. 
And wishful lips shut up together close 
As if with further fervency, and those 
Eyes — lips — framed in a crescent of dark hair, 
But all the face white as the lily fair 
And fair as the white lily; all alone 
That face he sees ; or if at all be known 

[43] 



A rival to it in his sight — lo, there, 
Leaning in mastery over her dark hair, 
A lank and sinewy figure, to dispel 
With the will's effort, as a nightmare fell 
That vexes one just dreaming of his love; 
But sometimes he, as in that dream whereof 
His vision was the likeness, by too much 
Power shook the specter off, and losing such 
Horror, lost too such beauty as he had 
Been dreaming of; a loss to make one mad, 
But soon restored ; so ever he rode on 
And saw alone these things, all else foregone. 



[44] 



A SUMMER STROLL 

I EOSE, and walked, one summer afternoon, 
Out from the house where I was stopping, soon 
To leave the lordly mountains and my friends. 
Returning . . . but forget that pleasure 

ends! 
Wander with me — while warm, slow breezes 

sweep 
Over the meadows — toward the bastion steep 
Of yonder wooded hillside, where deep shade 
Romantic rocks and mossy clefts hath made 
Even in the broad noontide ; and let rough care 
Fall off somewhere asleep, drunk with the 

languorous air. 

Up, and toward the forest-hooded top 
Of this green eminence! 'Twere vain to stop 
Here, or yet here, in hopes to drink the view; 
For these deep pines no eye can well pierce 

through. 
So, swift with slipping feet, we now descend 
The further slope, till pines with hemlocks 

blend. 
And these with maples, and, because we must, 
We come to a fenced highway, bare, and white 

with dust. 



[45] 



Out from the wood, through hot hay-fields it 

runs. 
Grasshoppers chant their drowsy orisons 
In one wide congregation ; overhead, 
Vast, blue and sun-inflamed, the sky is spread. 
Who moves, that moves not toward a beckon- 
ing goal? 
Ours is the leafy shelter of this shaded knoll. 

We mount, and from a terraced slope behold 
A lovely prospect, that the hills enfold — 
The awful, ancient hills, that awe and charm 
The spirit, as their pines with shades and balm 
And whispering music haunted. Here are 

vales 
So richly green that the wild fairy tales 
Of childhood scarce seem less than plausible 
In moments when the breast delights to swell — 
Fed with authentic glories. Far and faint 
Appears, as still the sight o'erleaps restraint, 
A glimmer from the breast of blue Champlain, 
Close by that ruined fort which fell without a 

stain ; 
And, standing here and gazing there afar, 
Strange thoughts of old days come — romance, 

and buried war. 



[46] 



TO 

Thou takest Earth in change for Heaven ! — 
Thou Icavest what thou canst not prove ! 

The wounds are healed, the wrongs forgiven 
And Friendship reigns in place of Love ! 



[47] 



FLOWER SONG 

Let the lustrous lily go 
To the altar; spare the glow 
Of the crimson rose to be 
Worn in beauty's rivalry. 
Let the pansy's leaves be shed 
On a buried lover's bed, 
And the bright forgetmenot 
Wither like a love forgot. 



[48] 



LOVER'S SONG 

theee's earth and rock about the land, 

And water in the sea; 
But in my heart, but in my heart. 

There's only love for thee! 

O there's many a flower blooms in the wood ; 

In the fields the flowers we see ; 
But in my heart, but in my heart, 

There's only love for thee! 

O there's many a song the wild birds sing. 

At home on the forest tree; 
But in my heart, but in my heart. 

There's only love for thee! 

O there's many a king hath jewels rare. 

And silver and gold in fee ; 
But in my heart, but in my heart, 

There's only love for thee! 



[49] 



RONDEAU 

I WONDER where my love can be ! 
Last night he did not come to me. 
A month has flown since first we met, 
And never has he failed me yet ; 
And that he loves me well I know, 
For often he has told me so ; 
And then — O what a treasure 'tis ! — 
He gave me many a loving kiss. 
Last night he did not come to me. 
I wonder where my love can be ! 



[50] 



TO THE MOON 

Mysterious Presence ! that, adorned with light, 

Dost make thy neighboring dwelling-place 

on high, 

Thee would I honor. While sleep shuts the 

sight 

Of others, still thou dost compel mine eye. 

O lovely and imperial orb afar! — 
Perfect thy movements are; 
And thou are clothed in beauty excellent! 
When thou discoverest thyself to air 
Mid starry spaces bare. 
Or, on a night storm-rent. 
Amid the clouds heaven's awful vault which 
bow, 
Kow beautiful art thou ! 

Long has thy praise been sung 
By many a tuneful tongue 
Since Homer called thee worthy to be hymned ; 
Nor is thy luster dimmed. 

On earth, young men and maids whom Venus 

guides. 
And happy bridegrooms, too, and happy 
brides, 
Have oft adored thee. 
The mighty ocean-tides 

Are yearning toward thee. 
[51] 



Winter beholds thee chastened yet benign, 

In sceptered calm divine; 
Thou meltest through the balmy summer 
nights, 

Scattering entranced delights. 

O moon ! with happy rapture thou dost fill me ! 

And let me not dismay 
If the sweet hopes which now awake to thrill 
me 

Should vanish with the day: 
For thou wilt come again to walk the heaven ; 

So hope, too, will return 
What time thou pourest through the silent 
even 

Fresh streams from thy bright urn. 



[52] 



THE EVENING HOUR 

Beyond the hill or distant wood or circle of 

the plain 
Sink softly out of sight, sweet sun, till morn 

bring thee again. 
Come, softest shadow, softest light, that 

mingle everywhere ; 
And come, ye faint first stars of heaven ; and 

come, ye dews of air. 
Descend, sweet peace of eventide, from the 

calm depths above; 
Bring, memory, the sweet images and tones of 

those we love ; 
And unto me, O brooding heart, O Mother Na- 
ture mild. 
Bring unto me sweet songs of rest, even unto 

me thy child. 
And thus, sweet Hour, walk through the land 

with grave and gentle mien. 
Like the blest ghost of one long dead that 

visits us unseen. 
Let the tired world from labor cease and put its 

sorrows by — 
A little while to feel thy power, ere shuts the 

weary eye. 



[ 53 ] 



TO TRANQUILLITY 

Thou, that hast left thy home in Paradise, 
And stoop'st in love to ease our mortal sighs — 
What is it that thou dost not do for us? 
Art thou not ever near, solicitous? 
Thou goest with us in the weary way ; 
Thou shar'st the burdens of the vexing day ; 
Thou art the pilot when Ambition sleeps ; 
Thou calmest the affrighted in the deeps ; 
Thou hoverest o'er our slumbers, quick to still 
The unquiet dreams and entering thoughts of 

ill; 
In calm or strife, o'er rough or easy ways. 
Thou art the gentle comrade of our days. 

But oh, th' unlucky hour when thou de- 

part'st ! — 
When, at some wanton mood, dismayed thou 

start'st. 
And, rising up on rapid pinions wide, 
Cleav'st the dim sky, no more to be descried 
Till, through a hell's black torture having 

passed. 
The penanced pilgrim wins thee back at last. 

Where, when thou flee'st afar, dost thou 
abide. 
Resting thy wings, at quiet eventide? 

[51] 



In no far desert or mid-ocean isle 
Can'st thou find refuge and thy fears beguile — 
For often, at that holy hour which fills 
With twilight shade the bosom of the hills, 
Thou com'st upon us from the voiced wood. 
And with thy presence feed'st our solitude. 

Aye, the deep wood is eloquent of thee, 
With grave and solemn utterance, speaking 

free 
Its oracles to every passing wind; 
And other haunts thou hast, and peace can'st 

find 
To charm thy senses in the courts of song; 
Nor doth sweet friendship not to thee belong. 

Brief is my lay ; but thou shalt honored be 
Long as within this world of misery 
These treasures in thy nature thou dost bear — 
Peace without weakness, riches without care. 
Health, that doth trouble not his own sweet 

rest, 
And wisdom, loving ever what is best. 



[55] 



THE CHIEFTAIN 

Let me unfold a tale whose setting lies 

In Italy. Imagine, if you will, 

A lonely scene, a landscape bare and wild, 

Lake, wood, and hill, and cross, and ruined 

tower, 
And, journeying up a steep and rugged way, 
A worn and solitary traveler. 
Look ! he has reached the cross, the emblem old 
Of that most sorrowful of travelers ; 
And at its foot he humbly kneels to pray. 

But what wild throng is this, that sallies forth 
From yon enmossed ruin, fierce horsemen armed 
And loosely ranked, in martial disarray? 
Forward they ride, and at their head seems one 
More noble yet less native than the rest. 
Who wears fierce looks, the weapons of com- 
mand. 
Beware, thou lonely, friendless traveler ! 
Beware, I pray thee, of this outlaw band — 
For such they seem, that bear no banners 

proud 
Nor mark nor ensign of authority: 
Too late, too late, alas ! — with foul intent, 
Careless of reverence or of courtesy, 
They are upon thee ; with drawn sword one 
stands 



[56] 



Upon his stirrups, ready to strike thee down, 
But first exulting in most hideous glee 
Ere he lean down to smite thee; one displays 
An empty pannier, and with wolfish eyes 
Stares at thy well-filled scrip, thy journey's 

stay. 
Hardly they look upon thee ; not one face 
Is lit with pity or solicitude; 
And lo, the heavens themselves are kindlier; 
For now the sun, from 'neath an uprolled cloud, 
Shines at its setting and illumines thee. 
Thy gray, thin hair, thy shoulders stooped with 

years. 
Thy patient, earnest face, are radiant now, 
As if to melt those iron hearts to tears 
Even at the thought of doing harm to thee. 
In vain ; unterrified at their design. 
Though all its horror blaze, they set upon 

thee ; — 
When lo, an arm is interposed between ; 
And fierce commands detain; swift they obey, 
Unwilling, for their leader 'tis commands. 
Who, finding one still nursing his desires, 
Is wroth, and, turning round with furious face. 
Unhorses him sheer from the saddle down; 
Then turns, and soothes the startled traveler's 

fears. 
But see, those fears have changed to wonder- 
ment. 

[57] 



What pain is this? Why shakes the old man 

so? 
Why doth he stretch his arms out to the chief 
And sob aloud? — and now he climbs a horse, 
The one whose rider was o'erthrown but now; 
And he that rode must lead the beast along. 

This way they come ; see, round the old man's 

waist 
The chieftain's arm is twined, and heavily 
The chieftain's head hath fallen on his breast ; 
And hark, the old man saith, "My son ! My 

son !" 



[58] 



THE DAY OF REJOICING 

All night the wild wind ceaseth not from its 

bewailing : 

What shall it do with what it hath for woe? 

Like an eternal spirit remorse is aye assailing, 

It wrestleth with its grief and will not let 

it go. 

So hath my heart made moan through dark, 
wild nights of sorrow — 
Deep lamentation uttered to the void above. 
Oh, lives there not in all the spaces some To- 
morrow 
That yet shall bring us healing on the wings 
of love? 

O that some golden day might float on rainbow 
pinions 
Out of the fair, white heaven we cannot see 
When Night hath made obscure her vast and 
lone dominions — 
O that one morn might break whose noon un- 
dimmed should be! 



[59] 



EVENSONG 

Sleep a little! What is night 
But a refuge from the light? 
Sleep a little, and forget 
That old Earth is toiling yet. 

Sleep, and do not fear ; 
For if Death come near 
He will haply pass thee by, 
Since thou dost so quiet lie. 

Sleep a little! Ease thy pain. 
What is worth thy while to gain? 
Sleep a little, ere To-morrow 
Give thee back the cast-off sorrow. 

Sleep, and as a flower 
Drop the passing hour — 
Care not if Time's end it brings; 
Thou art not with mortal things. 



[60] 



-.FP 5 1913 



, ..LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

018 360 059 A ^ 



